Second Rounds
by MaynEvent
Summary: Misato hates the stubble, except when she doesn't.


**Author's Notes: **This is a drabble fic I wrote for a friend, who convinced me to cross post it here. I've taken liberties with the scene in Episode 20 since it's short and unfulfilling as it stands. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>One round done.<p>

Kaji spent no time adjusting onto his side and rubbing his face against her hip. His breath was warm on her thigh and the rough thickness of his stubble scraped. She pressed her finger down against his head. Her belly tightened, a little sizzle running up the inside of her thighs.

"There's not a whole lot to tell." He answered her unspoken question just as she opened her mouth to speak; nuzzling her hip again, his nose tracing the bone.

Misato's breath caught. Kaji's hands settled on her knees where they rose beneath the sheet. His thumbs dug into the sides of her knees, massaging the shape of each joint; his fingers drifted down her calves then up again.

"Did they give you any trouble when you came through the back entrance?"

"Luckily for me, they didn't," he said happily to her hip. His hands had migrated north. "The security have long days. They'll be happy for any business."

Misato's fingers reached for him beneath the sheets. Kaji turned his face to her fingertips, her palm as it settled on his cheek. His eyes were closed, his stubby eyelashes black on his pale skin. The thick hair of his stubble tickled her fingers. She traced the shape of his ear. The tip of his tongue flashed. He was smiling.

"What're you so cocky about?"

He hummed in response.

Misato arched her eyebrows; her eyes lidded. "What?"

"Nothing," he said to the fleshy pad of her thumb, "I thought maybe I could extend our reservation another night."

"We don't have to go that far," said Misato. Her fingers trickled behind his ear. The tips slithered down his neck. Kaji slid his hands higher on her thighs, his palms warm through the sheet, so hot on her skin.

"I don't have-," she said.

Kaji kissed her hip slowly, softly. His lips parted; his teeth scraped so gently over the swell of it. His thumbs were working at her thighs, sliding higher, higher still.

"And we could stay another day here instead," he murmured. "Just you and me."

"We can't do that," she repeated. His hands settled just at the very top of her thighs, so light but warm, too.

"We could stay in," he suggested again.

"Yeah?" she said, "but there's so much we should do. All those responsibilities. All those duties."

She said it to tease him, to draw out that mischief in Kaji, that little tricky thing inside him that made him want to show off, to laugh when he was supposed to be solemn. He grinned up at her from her lap, his eyes lidded, the turn of his mouth knowing.

"You're right," he said sweetly, "we really shouldn't forget our professional responsibilities. Our duties," he continued as he bent to nuzzle her lap, "to the Commander."

"I know he fired you for a reason," she said archly, even as she cradled his head, held him to her. His mouth was so very near to her, his breath a hot thing trembling against her. He got hot too easily; she got cold too easily, so the sheet remained between them. Kaji mouthed her through it, his lower lip pouting as he dragged his nose, his mouth up, breath so warm.

"It doesn't stop me," he said. He said it casually, as if it were nothing not known, and that little crackling thing that had knotted in her gut spilled out.

"Kaji-kun," she said.

He looked up at her through those stubby lashes of his. His eyes were an inky blue, always that strange, dark blue, so unlike any other eyes she'd ever seen. His brow was thick. He was smiling again, smiling so sweetly with his eyelids slung low and the corners of his mouth sharp. She remembered the first time they'd talked, how he'd smiled at her just like that, and some shivery, excited thing had tightened then spilled out in her chest. She hadn't known what it meant then. She hadn't known what she'd wanted. All she'd known of sex was what her Mom had told her, and that had been little and confusing, too confusing to know how to recognize that first swell of desire inside her.

She knew it now, knew that when Kaji's hands were light on her thighs and his breath on her, the memory of his stubble and how it felt rasping up her thighs itching in her skin, and her belly trembled, she wanted his mouth and his hands and his stubble and his body. She wanted Kaji. She could have him, now.

"It's just you and me," he said lowly. Misato stroked the indent of his collarbone where it dove beneath the covers. She slid her hand down his jaw, dragging her palm over his stubble. Her thumb brushed his lower lip. Kaji smiled again, even more slowly.

"How are you not tired by now?" She let her thumb settle on his lip. "I'd hate for you to miss out on sleep."

"Oh," he said teasingly, "you wouldn't turn your back on someone who needs you?"

Misato wriggled under the sheets, under his fingers working at her thighs. She spread her legs, just so. "And what could you need from me?"

"I'm thirsty," he told her. "I tried some water and I had some wine before coming here, but it just wasn't what I was looking for."

"Mm," said Misato. "That sounds bad. Did you want me to get you that beer on the stand?"

"No," he said thoughtfully. "I think what I'm looking for is right here." He picked at the sheets, drawing them down her thighs. Misato's hands moved to pocket the sheets beside her, arched her hips, just so. But Kaji stopped only to kiss each inch exposed, lips so soft on her thighs, soft and wet, too, where they turned out.

They were lazy after the first round, the both of them. The light on the ceiling flickered. The room was shadowed a chestnut brown, and in those shadows and the dim light the lamp cast, Kaji's shoulders were stark, corded with muscle and pocked with shadows in each small hollow. His hand slid along the underside of one bared thigh. He turned to kiss it, and his stubble rasped along the soft skin there, rasped so Misato shivered and made to trace his ear again.

Kaji rubbed his face hard against her, scratching her thighs with the rough, black hair of his stubble so that Misato lifted her leg and cast it over his shoulder, her foot turned to settle against his flexing shoulder blade.

Kaji pursed his lips and blew a raspberry against her upper thigh.

"Wha- Kaji!" Misato sucked in a breath and thumped her heel against his back.

He was grinning against her thigh. His fingers slithered up her thighs, higher, higher. His thumbs parted the dark curls thick between her legs and then her warm folds, too. She felt her own wetness exposed, the heat between her legs given up to the cooler air.

Kaji said, "I just can't help myself," and then he licked a long, slick stroke right up between her parted folds. The tip of his tongue flicked into the little, wet opening, then he ran his tongue up again to her clit. Another twist of his tongue.

Misato ran her fingers behind his ear. "Kaji, please."

His stubble scratched her thighs. He turned his head, just so, and the rasp of that coarse hair on the soft inside of her thigh made her arch and sling her other leg over his shoulders. Kaji murmured something, then his tongue encircled her clit. His teeth worried it, rolling the nub between them. The delicate press of his teeth, the flicking of his tongue, how he pulled at it so that a little frisson of heat made her tighten even as the rough scraping of his stubble made her arch her hips, press closer to his mouth.

A long, calloused finger slid up between her folds. He pressed just the tip to her opening, then, with deliberate slowness, he slipped the tip of his finger in, then the first knuckle. The press of his finger inside her, the bend to it as he lazily slid in up to the second knuckle: Misato said, "Kaji-kun, please," and ground down his finger. He nipped at her clit, suckling it between his teeth. His finger crooked inside her.

"What is it?" his voice was muffled, his tongue spreading over her nub. "Katsuragi. You're so beautiful. You're so wet..."

He worshiped her with his mouth, with his teeth and tongue and breath shivering so hotly across her slicked folds. He ran his tongue down between the folds, licking them, tasting them with long roils of his tongue. In her, his finger twisted and turned; he pressed another finger into her, curling and uncurling them in waves, one by one, so that the heat in her belly swelled, so that she tightened about his fingers, his callused fingers, so long as he drew the heat from her belly to her thighs, the heat from her thighs to her opening.

"You..." she said, and she said: "Kaji-kun. Kaji, Kaji-oh. Please."

His tongue was so sure when he pressed it inside her, too, curling up as he crooked his fingers. Oh, the harsh scratching of his stubble against her thighs, the burn of it as he turned his face and his lips, soft and wet and mouthy, closed about her. His fingers split, parting her; he gave his tongue to her, licking out the wetness that spilled out of her now.

The hand still rested at her thigh moved higher; his palm skated over her belly; his fingers brushed the underside of her scar beneath her breasts; his thumb swept her nipple, rubbing it. Kaji hummed against her and, curling his tongue, slid it out. There was a slickness in his stubble, a wetness of his mouth. He smiled again, teasingly, and licked his shining lip.

Misato cradled his ears in her hands, her fingers coiled around his nape, and whispered, "Don't stop now."

He kissed her clitoris, lips parted, so soft. His tongue flicked it. "And what if I did stop?"

"Would you?" He sighed and drew her clit between his teeth. Another lick, worrying that nub as he rolled it in his tongue.

"No."

"Good." She arched her hips, relishing the slide of his fingers inside her, how he crooked them and then parted them again, spreading her. "Because I'd hate to kick you out of the room."

Kaji chuckled and she shivered. His stubble scratched at her thighs, scratched so her skin itched and she wanted to lock her legs together behind his head.

"Oh," he murmured, "you'd never kick me out. You'd start to think about me shivering out in the hall, all alone, and you in here in bed, all alone..."

"I'm seriously considering it, Kaji," she said, "if you don't keep going."

Kaji laughed again. "Well, then," his voice dropped to a murmur. He nuzzled her folds, his nose warm, his stubble scraping as he moved higher. Heat and her own wetness pooled between her legs, slicked his fingers where they twisted inside her. He pressed another finger in and licked up the length of it as he slid it in. The tip of his tongue teased at her entrance, and then he dragged it up between her folds with aching slowness, as if he were savoring the taste of her. Pulling her swollen clitoris into his mouth again he suckled at it like an infant, nipped at it, worried it with teeth and tongue and his pursed lips.

Misato looked down to his head, to his long hair so dark against his pale skin. His eyebrows were pronounced, so noticeable against his brow. The insides of her thighs would be sore later, the skin chafed by the rubbing of his stubble against it. Each step she would take tomorrow, the cloth of her clothes would scrape against her thighs, and however brief the moment, she'd think of Kaji bent between her legs, his stubble scraping her skin, his tongue pulling at her clit, his fingers driving deeper into her and stroking, pulling at the heat in her gut so it burned down her thighs.

She was wet beneath Kaji's mouth, wet and sticky and hot, so hot. He nibbled at her clitoris, teasing it, and the hand at her breast cupped it, squeezed it; his thumb brushed her nipple, brushed it again so it tightened. A fuzzy, warm pleasure ran up her spine. She wriggled helplessly under Kaji and felt his pleased smile as he licked another thick stripe up her folds.

"Kaji-kun," she whined, "again. Again."

The hand at her breast slid low. He cupped her ass, lifted her up from the sheets so that he might eat her out in earnest. Each time he worried her clit, dragged it between his teeth and there pinned, flicked his tongue over it, lavished it even as he nipped it again and again. His fingers twisted inside her, pulling at that heat so that her hips arched even without the guiding pressure of his hand at the small of her back.

She spread her legs wide for him and pushed up into his mouth, his hand. Her heels bit into his back. Her toes curled.

"Katsuragi," Kaji was whispering to her. He licked her clit again, pulled at it with his teeth again. "When I first saw you, I wanted you."

His fingers were hard and twisting inside her a divine act. There was a horrible pressure inside her, between her legs where his nails scraped so gently and his fingers crooked and spread and twisted within her.

"In the bar," he said, "when you said we should play that drinking game-"

In that crowded place, filled with noise and sex and drunkenness, she had looked at Kaji, looked at his face, his mouth, and thought-

"I wanted to kiss you," she breathed. "I-" His tongue was so strong, so very hot as it twined around her clitoris and suckled. Another little frisson of pleasure slithered into her belly.

She tightened around his fingers and wanted more, more.

"Katsuragi," he said. "Katsuragi." His fingers drove into her; he curled them, twisted them again and again as he worked her. Misato pushed her hips into his hand. His shoulders bowed between her. The edges of his stubble showed, so very dark. Each scrape of that coarse hair on her thighs was another hot drop of want in her stomach, already so heavy with want of him. Misato wanted to have Kaji spread out beneath her, his head in the pillow, his body all bared. She wanted to lick his throat, trace his Adam's apple with her teeth. Wanted him moaning beneath her as he ached, stiff for her, waiting for her to turn herself over and bend to take his dick into her mouth. Misato licked her lips. Her teeth were dry, but her mouth was wet, her tongue so thick with want.

Kaji gave up his tongue to her, his fingers, and Misato, spilling over, so thick and slick and heavy with want of him, with the clever knotting of his tongue as he licked and sucked at and worshiped the little hard nub of her clitoris, with those long and clever fingers working within her, stroking pleasure out of her every ridge, every fold, every hot place made so slick for him, Misato arched beneath him. She was so sensitive now, constantly, her nipples hard. But it was pleasure that filled her gut, pleasure that made her shoulders bend back and her chest heave and her back arch, pressing her crotch to Kaji's mouth and his hand, to the delicious, painful scraping of his stubble against her thighs. She stroked his ears, fingernails skating those shells, and held him close to her, so close all she knew was the heat building and pooling inside her and the shape of his tongue, the bend of each knuckle as he curled his fingers within her until at last Misato said, "Kaji! Kaji-kun, mmh, just-" and he bit hard at her clitoris, licked it once very delicately, and crooked his fingers together. The pressure building so hotly inside her popped, and Misato arched again, moaning hard, clutching his ears, holding him to her. Her gut trembled; her legs trembled. That sweet heat rolled through her again, again.

Kaji kissed her clitoris softly, then the slick juncture of his fingers and her opening. His hand was wet with her.

"Uhn," she said softly, "Kaji."

He kissed her thigh and slid his fingers free one by one, gently. Misato said, "Kaji-kun-"

Kaji leaned up and kissed her lips, his mouth slick with the taste of her, his jaw slick, too. Misato licked against his front teeth and pressed her hips against him, against the heat of his erection. "Katsuragi," he murmured into her mouth, "Katsuragi." Each iteration of her name was a benediction. Her name, a prayer on his lips where the taste of her lingered. "Katsuragi, I missed you."

She deliriously fumbled for his cock. Kaji kissed her jaw, the corner of it, her throat. Each kiss was sloppy, wet, mouth open, his tongue rolling up her skin. Another benediction. She found his cock, trailed her fingers down the hard length of it then held him and guided him. Her legs parted; she arched again to him. When Kaji slipped into her once again, she flung her legs around his lean, hard hips to pull him in deeper. He sighed her name. The thickness of his member sparked another little heat inside her, and she tightened around him. His hips jerked. Slowly, he withdrew and then stroked into her again, one very deliberate roll of his hips.

They were tired, the both of them. Each roll of his hips, each slow slide of his thick cock inside her, was languid. Misato spread her legs and arched into him, taking him in deeper as he pushed down into her again. The fullness of the stroke, the easy glide, stoked a different fire inside her. She rubbed at his shoulders, felt the lean muscles there, how they shivered with each slow roll of his hips, each lazy drive of his cock into her. She rolled her own hips, meeting him, taking him into her. The closeness of him warmed her. His lips were soft on her jaw, his stubble rough.

"I like your stubble," she whispered. His ear was near to her mouth. She kissed the lobe then bit it, flicking it with her tongue. "I like-"

-how it rasped across her skin, how she would still feel it on her thighs in the morning, a raw reminder of Kaji licking into her. But Kaji had caught her ass in his hands and adjusted the position of her hips, tipping them; so when he drove into her, then, he did so in such a way that her breath stuck in her throat and she convulsed around him.

"I want you," he said lowly, serious. "I want you. Katsuragi-"

"Kaji-kun," she said, "Don't, I need you to-"

Another long, deep stroke. She dug her fingernails into his back. Kaji groaned and his cock was so thick; he thrust deeper into her still. She kissed him again, urgent, bit his lip and pulled it back. Kaji made a soft noise, a little sweet, heartbroken noise. The taste of her vulva lingered in his mouth. She licked it from his tongue, from his teeth. His hand stole down between them, and his thumb caught on her clitoris; he stroked at it. Pleasure shivered through her, greater now than before. She was full of him, so very full, but Kaji was filled with Misato; she heard it in his voice, how he moaned her name again and again.

Misato rose. She pushed at his shoulders, pushed him till he gave to her, till he was spread out beneath her across the hotel sheets. She stared at his clavicle as it rose with his breathing. Misato rested her hand on his chest. Her fingers spread wide, her thumb digging into the center between his breast, then stroked that spot with her thumb as she rolled her hips to meet him.

Very softly she said, "Kaji-kun."

He reached for her. His fingers pulled at her hair, carded through it. His face was unreadable as he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Don't stop, Katsuragi."

She touched her fingers to his chin. She loved his stubble, she did. She loved the rasp of it, how it felt on her thighs, her face. Tomorrow morning...

She rolled her hips again, and Kaji exhaled. His throat arched back. A muscle trembled within it. It was nice, she thought, to make love again, so easily after eight long years. When he pressed into her, he did so slowly, gently. She ran her hands over his shoulders. Misato bent and kissed him softly on the mouth. Kaji's lashes swept low.

"Do you like this?" she whispered.

Kaji touched her cheek again, the fleshy pads of his fingers at her jaw.

"Yes," he said. "Katsuragi, when I first saw you, you were the best thing I'd ever seen."

"Kaji-kun," she said. "Kaji-."

He wrapped his arms about her and drew her near, and Misato wound her arms about his neck. She went to him. She always went to him. She wanted him, and she loved the warmth of him, the sweetness of each slow roll of his hips, the lingering taste of herself in his mouth.

"Do you think Ritsuko will tell anyone?" she whispered.

Kaji hummed into her mouth, and pressed up into her so she made a little sound in her throat. "What will she say? That's not like her, Katsuragi. Gossiping."

She pinched his nose and Kaji laughed, his throat bending, his teeth flashing and his eyes crinkling. He palmed her butt, his strong hands caressing each asscheek with firm and delicate flexes of each long finger. Misato pushed down against him, taking his cock deeper into her. Her hair spilled over her shoulder; it pooled beside his head, on his throat. He smiled at her and tipped his head, buried his nose in that cascade of dark purple hair.

"I missed you, too," she breathed, so softly she thought he might not hear.

But his smile deepened; delighted, he pushed his face into her hair. His hands slipped up to the small of her back, up her spine to cup her shoulder blades as she worked on him. Their hips met, parted, came together again. She'd missed him badly. Misato bent and kissed the corner of his jaw, darkened by the thick, scratchy hair of his stubble. Kaji smiled again.

"I'm glad I grew that out."

She nuzzled his jaw. "I like it." Her hips snapped back down and up again, urgent now.

"Yeah," he said, his breath catching, "I can tell."

His left hand trailed down to the back of her thigh, squeezed the muscle there. His fingertips brushed the inside of her thigh, over the little raw spot he'd left when he dragged his jaw across her skin. Misato moaned and buried her face in his throat. He thrust deeper into her, deep again as she pressed down to take him in. Kaji brought his hand around the front of her thigh then up, up. His thumb pressed against her clitoris, still swollen.

Misato bit his ear. Kaji made a startled sound and arched suddenly, thrusting up into her so she gasped again and then purred, breathlessly in his ear.

"Don't do that," he said, his breath coming shortly. Sweat was slick along his brow, along his throat.

"What? I thought you liked it," she said. She tongued his earlobe, flicked it between her teeth as his thumb circled her clitoris then pressed into it again.

"I do," he said. "I do like it. I like it so much, I-"

Misato bit the shell of his ear again and Kaji said, "Oh, dammit!"

She started laughing, huffing into his jaw, and after a grunt, his hips snapping up hard against her, Kaji chuckled; but his chuckle deepened and roughened, and he turned his face to her hair. His shoulders shook under her. Misato pushed them flat against the bed. The muscles in his shoulders quivered; his chest arched. She ground her hips down against his hips and tightened, squeezing around him so the laugh caught in his throat and gave way for a low groan.

His fingers caressed her, thumb stroking down her clitoris then up again, flicking it then rolling it between his fingers so Misato arched above him. A warm and slithering urgency drove her harder against him, and Kaji, now breathing out so hoarsely, arched up to meet her. Sweetness gave way to something hotter, harder. His other hand cupped her shoulder, then her throat. Kaji ground his hips up against hers -payback-and he rose to lick at her neck. His teeth closed so very gently on the line of the tendon that ran down to meet her shoulder. Misato said, "Ugh!" and grinded down, down, into his hand, onto his cock. He nuzzled her neck, her jaw, bit the corner of her jaw and kissed curve of her cheekbone and the side of her nose as she gasped and whined and pressed down again.

That tight heat popped again. Kaji said, "Katsuragi. Katsuragi-" and she heard her name as he meant it. Kaji's arm tightened impossibly around her shoulders. He pressed his face to the warm crook of her neck, his lips parted and hard on her throat, and he ejaculated like that, wrapped around her. Misato slung her arms around his shoulders and sank down with him into the bed.

Open-mouthed kisses in the aftermath, soft and lazy and so like honey. He mouthed her jaw, and Misato kissed his ear where she'd bit it. Kaji's hands slowly smoothed down her back. She traced the dips of his shoulders then slid her palm across it. She held him, and Kaji's eyelashes brushed her jaw. His stubble scratched her throat. She'd missed this closeness, the warmth of his body, the lean breadth of his shoulders flexing as he tightened his arms around her back.

She'd miss his weight of the bed when he would leave early in the morning. Unwittingly to her knowledge, for good.


End file.
